


to forgive is divine

by jars (cas_bunny)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Talks to God (Good Omens), Crowley has Trauma from the Fall (Good Omens), Crowley's Fall (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fallen Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Forgiveness, M/M, Mentioned God (Good Omens), Post-Apocalypse, She/Her Pronouns For God (Good Omens), Sort Of, more like Crowley talks about God, the author muses on the existential implications of being a demon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:55:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28164345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cas_bunny/pseuds/jars
Summary: Three days after averting the apocalypse, Crowley holds Aziraphale for the first time. Some feelings he thought he'd buried claw their way out.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 111





	to forgive is divine

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing fic not inspired by a prompt! It's not perfect, but I'm pretty pleased with how it came out.

The first time Crowley holds Aziraphale, he cries.

He’s left the bookshop for the first time in the three days since the not-apocalypse. When he walks back in, he’s holding a box of pastries from the shop he knows Aziraphale loves just down the street. 

As Crowley predicted, the angel greets him with a smile that breaks into a grin when he sees the treat Crowley’s brought (that was the goal, after all). Aziraphale sets aside the book he’s been lost in all afternoon and rises from his chair. He takes the proffered box of pastries from Crowley’s outstretched hand, but instead of opening it and delighting in its contents, the angel places it beside them on the desk and turns his attention back to him. 

Crowley watches, paralyzed, as Aziraphale takes a step closer and wraps his arms snugly around his torso, pulling their bodies flush from shoulder to thigh. The angel’s delicate curls tickle Crowley’s cheek where he has tucked his head into Crowley’s shoulder. His body is relaxed, leaning on Crowley completely and trusting that the demon will keep him upright.

Crowley’s arms hang stupidly at his sides. His fingers twitch uselessly, unable to obey even the simplest command to _move_.

Because the thing is, Crowley was never supposed to have this— isn’t supposed to have this. Millennia ago, Crowley had asked too many questions, and it had cost him dearly. Millennia ago, the Almighty had deemed Crowley’s sins _Unforgivable_ , and she had carved her light out of him.

 _‘Carved’_ is, of course, only the closest human approximation for what such a trauma is really like. Humans are corporeal— they are beings of flesh, and blood, and bone. They understand ‘carve’ as to remove an arm, a liver, a heart. Angels are ethereal— they are made of another kind of matter entirely. They are made of power, and love, and _light._ To rip away this light is to rip away a part of a human psyche, to alter the very essence of identity. It is an act of violence not unlike tearing apart a star.

This is the story most humans know of demons; fallen angels, who have lost their heavenly light. When humans tell this story, they rarely consider what it is to _be_ a creature devoid of love, of light, of _warmth._ They speak only of the darkness left behind. Of what it will mean for their fragile souls if they dare tread too close.

Humans do, however, often speak of yin, and of yang. In darkness, there is light. In light, there is darkness. One cannot exist without the other. 

When humans speak of demons, they should consider what it is to be a creature thrown into eternal unbalance. To be a darkness without light.

This absence of light leaves in its place a vacuum, a black hole, sucking up everything in its path in a desperate attempt to feel _whole_. 

Most humans consider this lack of light to mean demons are beings of hate, of evil, of sin. Humans misunderstand. Demons are none of these things, but they are, in fact, beings of _desire_. Creatures trapped in a never ending struggle to right a cosmic imbalance contained in a single being. 

Most humans believe a demon’s punishment for their sins is their banishment from heaven, the removal of this light, and the pain of their subsequent fall. This is incorrect. The true punishment of a demon is to exist in a constant haze of insatiable _want_ , to never feel _complete_.

Crowley met his true punishment on the wall of Eden, days after the creation of the world. An angel who would be both his greatest blessing and his greatest curse. For the next six millennia, not a day would go by that Crowley would feel alone (for there existed a light to match his darkness). For the next six millennia, not a day would go by that Crowley would not _want_ (for the light was not his to hold).

Back in the bookshop, Crowley’s arms move slowly to wrap around the angel. His hands fist in the back of Aziraphale’s coat creating mountain ranges in the fabric and Crowley can’t help it— he feels forgiven.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I'm on [tumblr](https://ineffable-houseplants.tumblr.com/) over here. Come scream to me about Good Omens.


End file.
